


caffeine, small talk

by gayprentiss



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: BAU bonding time because I'm a sucker for their interaction, Banter, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, SO MUCH BANTER, Smut, tiny minuscule suicide reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25582915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayprentiss/pseuds/gayprentiss
Summary: in which spencer reid is a royal pain in the ass and he & the reader butt heads. (female!reader)“would you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends?” - taylor swift, betty
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 203





	caffeine, small talk

**Author's Note:**

> title from COIN's "talk too much"
> 
> this was originally posted on my tumblr @klaushargreevesofficial so feel free to find me there :)

spencer reid is a royal pain in the ass. you don’t need to be a genius to know this as fact. as soon as you had stepped foot into quantico’s behavioral analysis unit on your first day however many years ago, the little shit had gotten under your skin. you had worn a lower cut top that day, you remember, and spencer hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of your chest. when hotch introduced you to the team, you gave a brief speech about your background and education, and each member of the team was hung on your every word, except for _fucking_ spencer. he had been distracted by your _looks._ you remember feeling conscious of his eyes on your cleavage and tugging your blazer closed. from that moment, standing at the front of the bullpen, feeling exposed to him, you decided you hated spencer reid. **  
**

“glad to meet everyone,” you had addressed the team sincerely, in conclusion of your introductory spiel. on your way to your new desk, luckily placed across the room and behind spencer’s, he reached out and grabbed your elbow, standing.

“hi y/n, i’m dr. spencer reid,” he had said. the individual introduction probably would’ve warmed your heart (everyone else’s sure did, anyways) if you hadn’t already decided that spencer would be your official workplace enemy.

“dr. reid,” you nodded curtly. you pulled your arm from his grip firmly and resumed walking.

“hey,” he called after you. “i wanted to tell you—”

you paused and turned to him. “tell me what? how good my tits look in this shirt?” you whisper yelled, trying to maintain some level of professionalism. unsure how to answer you, spencer gaped like a goldfish. “you should know, as a woman, it’s really uncomfortable when you can feel weird pervs like you staring at my boobs. on my first day.” you leaned in closer. “my first _fucking_ day!”

spencer retreated to his desk without a word. he wouldn’t meet your eyes, and that was the end of that. until the case. your very first case. spencer was pissed that you had snapped at him, and subsequently took it out on you. his tone of voice was consistently harsh and condescending as he addressed you on the case.

> _“no, y/n, that doesn’t fit the profile.”_
> 
> _“well, actually…”_
> 
> _“you’re not experienced enough to understand this.”_
> 
> _“my three phds told me i should work on this map alone.”_

the feud has escalated since then. everyone on the team is aware of you and spencer’s solid disdain for each other, and they make a point to keep you two apart nowadays. morgan had once gripped both you and spencer by your shirt collars and forced you to apologize to each other, when your verbal abuse of each other had turned dangerously unprofessional.

> _“y/n, did you know that the earliest documentation of a ‘miniskirt’ was in a 1962 article?”_
> 
> _“did you know that the earliest documentation of me kicking your ass was today?”_
> 
> _“no, listen, the men interviewed for the article were in favor of miniskirts if they were only worn on women they didn’t know. they liked to lust after other women in the short skirts, but if their wives or daughters wore them, they were seen as poor reflections of the men. as whores.”_
> 
> _“what’s your point?”_
> 
> _“you look like a whore today.”_
> 
> _“fuck you, spencer. you know you beat your dick to your photographic memory of my ass in this skirt.” you mimed an orgasm._
> 
> _“it’s eidetic, and i’d rather kill myself.”_
> 
> _“would you please?”_
> 
> _“fuck—” spencer started, but morgan intervened here._

——————————————

“close your mouth, boy wonder,” you greet spencer, opening your door to let him in. it’s your turn to host the team for drinks and dinner. much to your chagrin, spencer is a part of the team, and thus receives an invitation. you find solace in knowing penelope will probably distract you from any interaction with the lanky boy. besides, whenever the team hung out at your apartment, he quickly left after a few drinks and a short chat anyway. you could survive him for half of a night.

spencer flits past you and into your living room. the team greets him in an uproar of “reid!” and raised drinks. derek sticks out with his chant of “pretty boy!”

“y/n,” jj calls, “we’re dry over here.” she raises her empty glass of merlot.

“more wine, or something else, my loves?”

there’s an absence of voices shouting between rooms as the team discusses. you lean against your kitchen cabinet with eyes fixated on your liquor collection. waiting. this team sure does take their drinks seriously, you think, taking the time by yourself to make yourself an old fashioned. muddle a sugar cube in bitters. add whiskey. as you’re putting an ice cube into the glass, none other than spencer fucking reid saunters into the kitchen, a notepad in his hand.

“i have a list of drink requests,” he says simply, expression blank.

“resident alcohol connoisseur at your service. hit me,” you reply. your tone is more joking than you’ve ever used with spencer, but if he’s caught off guard he doesn’t show it. he rattles off the drink orders, each one something you probably could’ve guessed. penelope always wants something fruity, emily always wants something strong.

when his list is finished, you look up from the liquor to him. “nothing for the boy genius?”

“i’m leaving soon,” he says, and retreats back to the living room, arms full with drinks held precariously. you follow with the rest of the alcohol, handing each drink to its respective drinker. they each thank you profusely.

because your couch isn’t big enough to hold the whole team, you sit on the floor, legs criss-crossed. the team makes lighthearted conversation about _not_ murder and kidnapping for an hour, with you getting up to refill drinks once more in that time. “i like hanging out at y/n’s place, guys. she makes the best drinks,” derek says with a grin up at you.

“i was a bartender in my past life, i think,” you deadpan. penelope agrees with you loudly, with a slurp of her colorful newest drink accompanying.

“speaking of bartenders,” jj starts, and you see spencer visibly tense. “when are you leaving for your date, spence?” she says the word date with a sing-songy tone, dragging out the ‘a,’ and you suddenly feel sick.

the team, naturally, dissolves into excited chatter. reid? a date? you’re silent, focused on your cocktail as the topic of conversation isn’t exactly your favorite. spencer’s not your favorite, you mean. this isn’t about spencer’s date. screw spencer. you don’t care if he goes on a date.

you listen as he fills the rest of the team in on the story. he and jj had gone for drinks one afternoon and he really hit it off with the bartender. lauren, her name is, and jj assures the team that she’s gorgeous. spencer laughs a little, uncomfortable, and stands to leave.

a wave of anger surges over you. how dare he skip out on his friends to go on a date? “i’ll walk you to your car, spencer!” you say cheerily, the lightheartedness in your voice in direct conflict with your internal emotion. the team isn’t stupid, however, and they’ve never heard you be nice _at all_ to spencer, so everyone is acutely aware that something is about to go down. the room feels like the air has been sucked out of it as spencer meets your gaze.

“okay,” he says hesitantly.

you turn to the team. “be good while i’m gone, my loves. the alcohol is on the counter if you, by some crazy chance, need a refill in the next five minutes.” you blow them a kiss, penelope pretending to catch it. the rest of the team stares up at you with wide eyes. “let’s go, genius.” you open the door and escort him out.

as soon as the door latches behind you, spencer pipes up. “what the fuck are you doing, y/n?”

“walking you to your car, dipshit.” there’s a pregnant silence as you walk down the stairs of your apartment complex. “you know, it’s pretty fucked up for you to skip out on team bonding because of a date, spencer, but i understand. i know how important it is for you to lose your virginity one day.”

“fuck you, y/n. you really followed me down here to berate me?”

“yeah, i was getting a little bored just letting you sit there silently.” you lean your side against his car as he unlocks it and tosses his bag into the backseat.

he copies your stance, leaning across from you and looking at you intently. “why do you hate me?” his tone of voice is low, and you can tell he’s mad.

“you irritate me,” you reply.

“not good enough.” his hazel eyes search your face and even though it’s dark, you can tell they look like honey from the glow of the street lamps.

“you annoy me.”

“again, not good enough. those are synonyms.”

his calm demeanor is enough to send you over the edge. “i hate that you look at me, spencer!” you exclaim, raising your voice. “you make me feel like i’m inferior, like i’m a piece of goddamn fucking meat.” you push your pointer finger into his chest. “you think i’m less intelligent than you, you think i’m less qualified than you, and frankly, you’re a pompous asshole.” he’s silent in stark contrast to your yelling in his face. “i hate your date for tonight. i hate that the whole team loves you. i hate your fucking cardigans and your fucking converse. i hate when you wear a tie but it’s a little too long or a little too short. i hate that sometimes, you wear a hair tie on your wrist but,” you enunciated each word with a stomp of your foot, “you. never. put. your. hair. up.”

“you’re saying all this, y/n, and i get it, i really do,” he speaks coolly. “all I’m hearing, though, is that you’re in love with me.”

“you cocky fucking asshole.” riled up, you turn and attempt to walk away. spencer grabs your elbow and you’re reminded of the day you first met.

“you hate my cardigans? my ties? my shoes? y/n, for someone who hates that i look at her, you sure look at me a lot.” his voice has less of an edge now, less arrogance. you hum, face still turned away from him. “i’m sorry, y/n. i’ve been a dick to you for years. i own that, and i’m sorry. but i think you came down here because subconsciously, you didn’t want me to get in my car and go on this date tonight.” his hand is still on your elbow, but you pull it away to rub your eyes.

he has absolutely deflated you. the anger you felt in the moments just before is missing, and you take his words to heart. it’s impossible. you weren’t in love with spencer, y/n. just tell him you’re not in love with him, it’s simple. he’s your mortal enemy. you’re not in love with him.

“i think i may be love with you,” you say meekly, finally turning to him. fuck. you meet his eyes for the first time in what feels like years. maybe it had been. he’s softer than you remember.

“y/n, let me kiss you.”

“i’m nervous,” you admit in a whisper. he rubs his hand across your cheek and you lean into the touch. “spencer, literally two minutes ago i wanted you dead, and now…” you trail off. he nods in silent agreement. the two of you stand like that for a few more moments, his hands cupping your face, your eyes raking his features. “…you’re pretty,” you finish quietly. “have you always been pretty?”

he pretends to think for a moment. “yeah, actually.”

you give a watery chuckle and pull away from his embrace gently. “the team is still upstairs. if you really want to kiss me, ditch your date tonight and come back up.” after you press a hand to his cheek lovingly, you retreat to your apartment quickly, hardly giving him time to follow you.

when you reenter the apartment, the team is silent and staring at you. it’s obvious by their faces that they’d just been talking about you. you close the door behind you and press your back against it. “hi, guys,” you say.

“nothing? no harsh words about reid?” derek peers at you closely.

as you make your way back into the living room, you point a finger at him. “don’t profile me, derek!” everyone chuckles. you don’t plan on bringing up spencer at all, but the silence that settles over the team breaks you. maybe you’re just excited to talk about it, you think, and where once you’d push that thought away, now you welcome it. you gush about what happened in the parking lot, using your hands to emphasize important points. you give the team a short version, expecting spencer to be back up at the apartment any moment. how embarrassing would it be if he walked in the door and you were talking about him? none of the team seemed particularly shocked, but emily casually mentioned how funny it is that none of them had figured out that you and spencer were grappling with feelings for each other.

“if it makes anyone feel any better, i didn’t figure it out either. the only one who did was…”

“reid,” everyone choruses in unison. you dissolve into giggles until the time hits you. it’d taken you about 20 minutes to explain the situation. so much for the short version, but surely spencer would’ve been back by now. unless…you hadn’t considered the possibility that he left. that he actually went on his date instead. 

penelope takes note of your sudden shift in expression. “uh, y/n, i hate to say this, but…”

you nod. “he would’ve been back by now, yeah.” you climb up from your seated position and walk to your bedroom, looking out of your window that overlooks the parking lot. “he left,” you call back to the living room, despondent. “fucking asshole,” you whisper. you can hear derek sigh even from your distance. you take a second to compose yourself. fixing your posture, vertebra over vertebra. you allow your emotions to shut off, any sadness you felt towards spencer’s obvious rejection pushed away and replaced with a void. you pad back into the living room.

“well, that’s embarrassing,” you say with a half-laugh. jj gives you a sad look. “anyways, anyone who’s not driving home tonight is _welcome_ to get loaded with me tonight. i just got new shot glasses.” your attempt at acting fine obviously wasn’t flying with the team, and after a moment of silence you finally let it go and sink into the chair next to the couch.

“no more alcohol tonight,” jj says.

“yeah, agreed. i hate to kick you guys out, but i feel like i might just spend the rest of the night in the bathtub. with the lights off.” everyone agrees, standing to leave. you thank them repeatedly for hanging out with you, and apologize for the unfortunate ending to the evening.

you hug penelope, jj, and emily. as you’re opening your arms to embrace derek, there’s a knock at the door. you pause, arms still outstretched. you look around in a panic, and derek pipes up, “well, are you gonna get that?” you feel like you can taste the excitement in the air as everyone pieces together who’s just knocked.

you swing open the door, and there’s spencer, a large bouquet of flowers perched in his arms. “i’m sorry I took so long, i went to get—”

you cut him off by pressing your lips to his firmly. it’s a short kiss, but it says what it needs to say. there are hoots and hollers from behind you, but there’s no one in the room except you and spencer. “you _frustrate_ me.”

————————————————–

you press tiny kisses along spencer’s bare chest. your friends are long gone, leaving pretty swiftly after spencer had shown up. you and spencer had moved to the couch quickly, lips locked, but not before he had explained what the flowers he bought you signified.

> _“according to the victorian flower code, red tulips signify a declaration of love. victorians used flowers to communicate feelings because courting someone and showing feelings in public was considered taboo.”_
> 
> _“that’s nice, spencer. i like that. is there a flower for “i thought i hated you but it was actually just repressed sexual tension?”_

you lay on his chest, limbs entangled. he’s got one hand in your hair stroking gently and the other resting on your stomach, where his thumbs make unconscious circles. “hey, i have this pendant on my necklace, too,” you whisper, tangling your fingers in the chain around his neck. he’s silent for a long time. “spence?” you look up at him. he’s looking down at you, brows furrowed and eyes wistful.

“you wore that necklace on your first day,” he murmurs. “when you were introducing yourself to the team. and i noticed.” the wheels start to turn in your head. “i tried to tell you that we had the same pendant. i was gonna show you,” he sighs. “i was _excited_ to tell you. but you thought i was staring at your boobs.”

you frown, twisting to press a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “i called you a perv. i remember.” he nods. you pout. “i’m sorry, spence. think of how different things would’ve been if i had just listened.”

“yeah, you should probably work on that,” he jokes.

“how can i make it up to you?” you ask, knowing fully well what your plan is. you move smoothly from the couch onto your knees in front of him. “how can i make up for lost time?” he doesn’t respond. he doesn’t need to. you make quick work of his belt buckle as he looks down at you through hooded lids.

time moves slowly as you unbutton and unzip his pants, and spencer is in agony waiting. you look so pretty. he lifts his hips slightly to help you remove his pants. “i don’t think i’ve ever heard you this quiet, spence,” you murmur as you begin palming his bulge through his boxers.

he breathes out a soft moan. “yeah, well your hand is on my dick, so pardon me.” his words are spencer’s typical deadpan, but his voice is an octave higher than usual and full of breath. you tug his boxers down just enough to free his hard cock, and you’re taken aback. he’s big, longer than he is wide. his dick is painfully stiff, wet with precum, and you’ve never wanted to suck someone off more than you have in this moment.

“you’ve been holding out on me, dr. reid,” you grin, eager. you begin to pump him slowly, tantalizingly.

he lets out a high pitched moan and bucks his hips into your hand. “stop teasing.”

“teasing?” you bring your lips to his cock and kiss down his shaft. “i’ve never teased you, not once in my life.” you punctuate by licking a long strip up the base of his cock and pulling him into your mouth slowly. his left hand finds your hair, tugging it back into a ponytail, and his right strokes your cheek softly. you look up at him as you hollow your cheeks and he lets out a rumbling groan at the eye contact. you bob your head slowly, gradually picking up speed. each time his cock hits the back of your throat, spencer whimpers. as you speed up, tears spill out of your eyes. he screws his own shut.

“fuck, y/n.” his hand tightens around your hair and he thrusts his hips once, prompting you to pull off of him and wipe your mouth. you can tell he’s close, and you want this to be good for him. spencer is distraught, to say the least, at the loss of contact. he begins to plead, “wait, shit, no, plea—”

“fuck my mouth.” you cut him off. without waiting for an answer, you sit back on your heels with a bounce and open your mouth for him.

he groans. “you’re going to kill me, baby.” you whimper at the pet name and make a mental note to bring it up later. he moves closer to you, guiding his cock into your mouth. he’s close, too close to even consider going easy on you. his hips move quickly, thrusting in and out of your mouth, punctuated by your gags. he’s feral, chasing his orgasm desperately until he finally reaches his high, moaning your name loudly. you swallow all of his release, pulling off of him and sticking your tongue out for approval. wordlessly, he gets down on his knees to meet your height. before you can ask him what he’s doing, he grabs your face and pulls you into a passionate kiss. you moan against his mouth, but the kiss is over before you know it.

“i love you,” he says sincerely, and you shake your head in disbelief.

“i cannot believe i am saying this to you, spencer reid, but i love you too, _baby._ ” you say the word “baby” with a joking tone, clearly mocking his use of it earlier.

he smiles, all teeth, and says, “i _knew_ you would make fun of me for that! as soon as i said it.”

you shake your head with a smile. “no, i’m not making fun of you, love. i liked it. use it more.”

“‘love’?”

“would you prefer ‘hate’?”

“god, no, not again,” he says, scooping you up into his arms and peppering kisses all over your face and hair. “never again.”


End file.
